


Chaos Theory: Edge of Chaos

by Scarecrowlover



Series: Chaos Theory: A Comprehensive Modern Re-Imagining of the Critical Role Saga [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angsty College Percy, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, But what did you expect this is Percy's backstory, Domestic Fluff, Don't Have to Know Canon, Drama, Drugs, F/M, Fuck the Briarwoods, Graphic Description of Corpses, Modern AU, NOT FOR SENSITIVE READERS, Rated E for Graphic Violence, Rock and Roll, Sex, So Many de Rolos, TLDR, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Traitors Everywhere, Who am I kidding this is horrifying, so much plot, this is not a nice story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-20 05:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13140429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarecrowlover/pseuds/Scarecrowlover
Summary: A coming of age story where a young prince learns the true value of his country and family just a little too late…This is Percy’s full backstory within the same Modern AU universe of “The Butterfly Effect” and part of the “Chaos Theory” Critical Role Modern AU series.





	1. Snow Dusted Pines

**Author's Note:**

> As per VERY popular request, here it is: The full backstory of Percy within the same Modern AU universe of “The Butterfly Effect”, and part of the Chaos Theory Universe. 
> 
> Much like _Chaos Theory: The Butterfly Effect_ , this will be a full retelling of Percy’s canon backstory, but taken from a modern perspective, with closely parallels the canon material. This isn’t a fic for the faint of heart. This story depicts serious situations and graphic violence, so if you aren’t comfortable reading about certain topics, be sure to look out for the content warnings I place in the endnotes of every chapter, if there are any. Enjoy.
> 
> **Disclaimer:**
> 
> In the interest of honoring Taliesin's brilliant character creation, Percy is a bit of a "teenage asshole" in the beginning of this story, gradually evolving into the far more worldly Percy we have grown to know and love. Although I as a writer enjoy depicting flawed and problematic characters as a form of satire or social commentary, I myself do no commend the problematic beliefs harbored by the young de Rolo, Julius, or any of his other relatives. Thank you for understanding, and I apologize in advance for anyone who may be made uncomfortable by the topics brought to light in this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Content Warnings this chapter.  
> \--  
> So it begins.

Afternoon lectures at Whitestone University were generally populated by students who were far less likely to grasp deep concepts of academia, while simultaneously harboring a great passion for sleep; particularly those great moments of slumber that extended into the early afternoon. Percy, of course, was one such student, but he would  _never_ stoop so low as to compare himself to any of these feeble-minded commoners who sat around him. For starters, they generally weren’t grad students, as most graduate seminars were also hosted in the evenings; they weren’t upper-level classmen either, as higher level computer programming courses were mostly held in the mornings. That meant that the abysmally boring, mandatory beginner’s programming classes were in the afternoons, which also meant that every damn Friday, Percy was forced to share the air with a couple dozen lazy, unmotivated, wannabe hackers whose minds were less focused on what Professor Anders had to teach and more so preoccupied with deciding what beer to fill their keg with than evening. Gods forbid they actually put their tuition to good use.

Not that most of them cared whether they were wasting their money or not. The majority of Whitestone University’s students belonged to the most elite circles of society. They were the kids of CEOs, surgeons, and lawyers; trust fund brats; the spawn of politicians and diplomats; children of generals; rich foreign exchange students; and of course, one very bored, very tired, very over-it prince of Whitestone who couldn't wait to get his ass out of there.

Contrary to the popular misconception, being a prince was less of a perk and more of an embarrassing conversation piece. He didn’t exactly know where the idea of a strong, handsome, fairy tale prince stereotype originated from, but if he could go back in time to rectify the mistake by shooting whoever conceived the preposterous notion, he’d zestfully make it so. Needless to say, with his lanky frame and geeky disposition, he didn’t exactly fit the Disney prince mold...

Not to mention, being the prince of the tiny City State of Whitestone wasn’t all that impressive when compared to the big shot royals of Marquet or Draconia. In fact, his family name was probably more famous for being the founders of Whitestone Pharmaceuticals and less so for being part of the de Rolo House that had ruled over their tiny excuse for a country for centuries.

Therefore, it wasn’t hard for Percy to justify why he spent most of his days working toward solidifying his position in the company, as opposed to goofing off spending his money on making himself famous. With a deep enough education, he hoped to become the most qualified cyber security manager in all of Exandria. He’d make Whitestone a bustling tech capital, and in doing so, he’d invite bright minds from across the globe to showcase their brilliance. Sure, it was ambitious, but was by no means an exaggeration. He knew he could do it. He’d been programming since he was in middle school and he knew he had the potential. It was only a matter of powering through the lower level mandatory classes.

Percy covered a yawn, adjusting his round silver rimmed spectacles and resting his head on his knuckles as his sky blue eyes scanned the lines of code projected in high-definition on the enormous screen. The glare of the projection was so incredibly bright that students couldn't fall asleep even if they tried. Professor Anders had done this intentionally, as he was well aware of his Friday class demographic. It was also why he made class attendance absolutely mandatory, with no forgiveness for missing class unless “you were dead or dying”. Most students found his attendance policy far too strict, but Percy admired him for enforcing it. He hoped it would at least filter out any dumbasses who were taking the class for the “cool” factor.

After pacing across the length of the stage a few times, Anders ran a hand through his short gray hair and trailed it down his green tie before turning toward the rest of the class.

"So, can anyone tell me what is wrong with this function?"

As expected, silence fell upon the lecture hall, with the exception of a few coughs and the awkward rustling of papers. Percy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, waiting patiently for  _anyone_ to catch the painfully obvious mistake Anders had planted in the code.

“Come on…”  Anders groaned, his voice rough and slightly annoyed. “This one is simple. I will dismiss you all early if you can figure this one out.”

With little hesitation, Percy lifted his hand high, clearing his throat to get Ander’s attention. Although he hated being the center of attention, the promise of being able to leave early was enough of an incentive for him. He generally shied away from giving answers because he knew the others thought he was a show off, but in this case, they’d surely excuse his academic superiority as a means of getting them out of class early.

With his right hand still held high, he met eyes with Anders, who nodded in his direction. “Yes, Percival?”

Percy lazily ran a hand through his thick brown hair as he spoke, giving a quick glance at the other students who gave him a few standard looks of disdain. The ungrateful shits.  
  
"On line five. The function being used to take user input is depreciated and unsafe. There is no limit to how many characters they could enter. That makes the program susceptible to a buffer overflow attack."  
  
"Excellent. Thank you Percival,” Anders said, rubbing his hands together. He clicked a button on his remote which switched to the next slide, highlighting the problem line of code. “This is a simple mistake that can potentially go unnoticed for ages, that is...until a problem arises. But by then, I guarantee, it will be too late. Remember: When writing code, do so with the assumption that someone is trying to modify it. Never let your guard down, because if there is a weakness, an outsider will find it.”

If anyone knew how to sound ominous, it was Anders. It wasn’t unsurprising that he actually started his studies in theatre before switching to computer science. He was the type of man who knew how to captivate an audience, though it was less so through kindness and more so through subtle intimidation.

After giving the room a quick once over, scanning each tired face like something out of a Terminator movie, he narrowed his eyes and finally finished his thought. “Always assume your enemies are looking over your shoulder.” With that, he turned away and lifted his hand in a dismissive manner, “Have a nice weekend.”

Like a pack of sheep freed from their pens, the whole room woke up in a chorus of conversation, shifting fabric, and zipping bags as the students quickly rose out of their seats and made their way out of the lecture hall. Percy followed suit, slipping his tablet into his backpack and putting on his long dark blue coat before making his way down the central stairs that lead to the exit.

“Percival,” Anders spoke up, prompting Percy to stop in his tracks just as he was was making his way past his desk.

Percy stopped in his tracks. “Yes professor?”

“Bright as usual, I see,” Anders said as he walked up to a nearby window and opened the blinds, allowing the setting sunlight to paint the room in golden ribbons.

“Thank you sir,” Percy said, staring down at the floor.

“Is this your last class of the day?”

“Yes,” Percy said with a small smile.

Andres smiled back as he slipped his laptop into his bag. “Walk with me then. I have some news that might interest you.”

Percy and Professor Anders made their way out of the lecture hall and into the bright, infant-spring sunlight that highlighted the greens of the snow dusted pines that towered high over Whitestone University’s gray brick campus.

“I know that this class is probably quite boring to you Percival.”

Percy let out a sigh as he kept his pace with Anders, the light layer of snow crunching under their boots. “Not with you teaching it.”

Anders chuckled. “Don’t humor me Percival. You’re mistaken to believe my age had withered my eyesight. I can see you yawning your soul away in that corner seat.”

Percy felt his cheeks turn red and he nervously laughed away some of his embarrassment. “Sorry…” he said, staring up into the green canopy of a particularly old pine.

“It’s understandable. I know your knowledge far surpasses what is being offered in this class, which is why I was actually considering making you my TA next semester...”

Percy nearly stumbled on his own feet, his eyes widening at Anders’ proposition. Anders was notorious for never wanting help, so the notion that he was offering up a Teaching Assistant position was not to be taken lightly.

Anders smiled at Percy’s reaction, rubbing his well groomed beard. “If you’re interested, of course.”

Percy tried to compose himself, adjusting the collar of his coat. “I’d be honored.”

“No,” Anders said, patting him on the back as they walked. “The honor is mine. Your term paper on cyber security was awe inspiring. You may just have a thesis prompt on your hands.”

Percy half smirked. “I hardly feel like it was all that impressive. If anything, it almost felt like I was cheating.”

“Basing a paper off of experience isn’t cheating. You’re quite privileged to be able to draw from your work with your family’s company. Consider it a case study. Programming is just as much a practical field as it is academic. Though, I admire your humility.”

Percy simply smiled as he looked forward, trying to not seem too excited. “Thank you.”

As the two men made their way to an intersection, Percy informed Anders that he was heading in the direction of the parking structure.

“I’m assuming you going home for the weekend?” Anders asked.

“Yes...” Percy groaned. “As per  _adamant_ request from the Family.”

“You don’t seem all that excited.”

Percy let out a sigh, smiling at his own emotional transparency. “I’m not all that keen on social events...”

Anders pat Percy on the shoulder, his smile warm and almost fatherly. “Don’t worry. I have been acquainted with almost everyone who will be attending and I guarantee they are all fascinating people. Worst comes to worse, you can sit beside me if you find you’ve run out of conversation points.”

Percy smiled back at Anders. If he behaved with his students half as kindly as he did with him, he’d get much better ratings on RateMyProfessors.com.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Percy said. “It’s an understatement to claim that I’m relieved you’ll be there as well.”

“I find that knowing the people you’re doing business with is always a good start.” He then perked up, as if reminded of something. “Ah, speaking of which. I almost forgot. Send me an email so that I'll be reminded to send you the latest article written by Dr. Anna Ripley. What better way to know a person than to read their work?”

“Of course,” Percy said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll do it right now.”

“Excellent,” Anders said, rubbing his gloved hands together. “I’ll send you the article just as soon as I get to my office. But I won’t keep you waiting. I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do with your family. You haven’t been home in…?”

“Two months. Since Winter’s Crest.”

“Such a shame,” Anders said, clicking his tongue. “The de Rolo’s are a fine family.”

Percy simply chuckled, “I know you’re just saying that because it’s treason to claim otherwise.”

Anders laughed loudly, giving Percy a light punch on the shoulder before adjusting the strap of his own laptop bag. “See you tomorrow. Have a nice rest of your day.”

“You too Professor Anders,” Percy said, desperately trying not to grin like an idiot. The news was invigorating to say the least, but he had places to be a things to do before the weekend.

With a subtle spring in his step that he tried to suppress, he quickly made his way down the long winding path that lead to the humble little parking structure, which was of course heavily guarded, and held  _far_ less humble a cars.

“Evening Jason,” Percy said as he nodded to one of the guards, who opened the gate for him with no hesitation and bid him a good weekend before returning to his cigarette. Jason seriously needed to stop smoking. Percy had never seen the man without a damn cancer stick pinched between his lips.

Releasing a deep sigh into the chilled air, Percy slipped into the leather seat of his silver BMW i8, turned on the silent electric engine, and just...   
  
Sat.

Pensive. Quietly doubting. Debating with his inner persona…

He glanced up at his own reflection in the rear view mirror as he tried to come up with some sort of last ditch excuse to miss the dinner. Perhaps he could say he got food poisoning? No…too obvious. He could say he’d hurt his back and couldn't make the drive….but that wouldn't work either; they’d likely send a driver to go get him. He could just not show up, but his family would probably send one of his siblings to go retrieve him anyway. The fact that his family only lived about forty-five minutes away from campus didn’t exactly help.

His state of reflection was interrupted by the feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket. With a bit of a grunt, he reached for it and slid his finger across the screen, before letting out another deep sigh.

It was the email from Professor Anders, with the link to Dr. Anna Ripley’s article attached as promised.

He couldn't bale on the dinner. For Anders’ sake.

With a crack of his knuckles and a roll of his shoulders, he turned on some Greenday and sped off to the profoundly relatable tunes of “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”. The sooner he could pack his things, the sooner he could get home, and the sooner he could complete the mandatory retelling of his college ventures to his family,  _and_ the sooner he could retreat to his childhood bedroom where he could mind his own fucking business and prep for the dinner on Saturday night...

...just as soon as he got a workout in at the university recreation center. Their home gym was tiny and smelled old money anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, being a rich kid must be so damn hard. Don't worry Percy. Things will only get easier for you. I promise...
> 
> Anyway, so begins the first chapter of a pretty long fic depicting Percy’s backstory, and how it all eventually leads up to the events of “The Butterfly Effect.” You don’t necessarily have to read The Butterfly Effect first, though I imagine the effect of how you receive this story will probably vary on whether you read this or that fic first. It’s up to you. Just know that I give priority to the main storyline before any other spin-offs like this one.
> 
> Special thanks to one of my readers for the car suggestion for Percy. Be sure to check it out, it’s a real car and it’s pretty cool and pretentious as fuck.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EoojNzIL2cQ


	2. Fashionably Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time, on “Edge of Chaos: After speaking to Professor Anders after his last Friday class, Percy is almost ready to go to his family’s business dinner on Saturday night, but is still on the fence about it. He hopes that spending some time in the gym before leaving for home will clear his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Content Warnings this Chapter.  
> \---  
> A lot of world building in this chapter. But brace yourselves...don’t let your guard down.

Percy believed that rock climbing was one of those sports that was largely unappreciated by the majority if the student body at Whitestone University. Despite their gym having an extensive indoor rock wall, with routes ranging from novice to borderline neck breaking, it wasn't nearly as popular of a sport as hockey or lacrosse. It probably wasn't social enough for the majority of the university’s extroverts, what with their insatiable need to “network” lest they shrivel up and die. Meanwhile, those who went to the gym to actually build muscle mass didn't bother with the rock wall at all, and instead focused on machines that faced mirrors to feed their insatiable egos. This of course meant that on Friday and Saturday nights -- when most of the students were too busy prepping for their ragers -- Percy could enjoy the peace and tranquility that came with belay-free, solo rock climbing...

“Yo, Eyerollo!”

...usually.

Feeding into the source of the nickname, Percy rolled his eyes and froze mid maneuver before glancing down at who he assumed was his fraternity president, judging from his unforgettable throaty timbre.

“What do you want River?”

“You didn't RSVP to our social tonight,” River replied, dropping his gym bag at his feet. “You coming or what?”

The president of the Whitestone Gentlemen's Society was everything you’d expect from an exclusive, invitation only, all-male fraternity: Tall, blonde, muscular; an exemplary male specimen who’d be the first to be kidnapped by aliens if they started a human breeding program on another planet. He was currently sporting a pale green I <3 P.E.L.O.R. tank top, which he wore so loose that you could occasionally get a glimpse of a dark pink nipple when he got rowdy. River had always been one to flaunt the organization where his family worked; there was certainly no shame in that. Though Percy did find the whole design to be a bit tacky. Nevertheless, despite his appearance and demeanor, he was actually a relatively tolerable human being, and Percy didn’t want to in any way sour his reputation with a person he was was socially obligated to consider kin.

Percy shifted positions and hung for a moment, genuinely trying to remember what the fuck River was talking about. “The paint party?”

“That was _last_ week.” River groaned. “You seriously don't pay one ounce of attention do you?”

“Guess not…” Percy said as he scanned the wall for the next handhold.

“C’mon. You even liked my Instagram post. It's a wet t-shirt party.”

Right. That one. Percy grunted as he used a little jump to reach his destination, and took a breather before speaking up. “You do realize it's like -2 degrees outside, right?”

“It's gonna be at Lightmoore’s place. He's got a heated pool and it's gonna be fucking lit. You know you wanna go.”

Percy found a comfortable spot to rest and laughed at the absurdity of the claim. He'd much sooner be held at gunpoint than go to an alcohol saturated, chlamydia tainted, paparazzi infested frat party.

The only reason he was even in the damn fraternity was because it was a “family tradition”. In fact, it was practically an obligation. His great grandfather joined the Whitestone Gentlemen’s Society when it was founded;  his grandfather followed suit, and soon after, his great uncle. His father was invited when he was admitted to the university; after that, his uncle; and later still, his brother Julius. When Julius graduated, Percy just assumed they had done their part for their generation.

But no... Things were never that simple in the de Rolo family; of course not. That wasn't how any of this worked at all.

Supposedly, any _respectable_ de Rolo male who attended Whitestone University was pretty much expected to become part of the WGS, and it wasn’t just to get a name and picture on the wall of fame to enhance the university’s prestige. The exclusivity of the fraternity meant that it was very unwise for a de Rolo to refuse membership, as it was customary for a non-noble fraternity president to extend the invitation to the nobles, a gesture which was intended to humble the nobility and emphasize the equality of all club members...or something like that.

When first presented with the invitation, Percy held no bias toward the group. As he studied the pictures of his grandfather in the pamphlets, the fraternity actually looked like a semi-agreeable gathering of individuals. Sure, it was mostly just a bunch of young white men in tailored suits standing next to expensive horses while holding a Whitestone banner, but it was by no means anything too outrageous; a bit contrived perhaps, but in no way unpleasant.

However, it didn’t take long for Percy to find out that the fraternity was in no shape or form even close to what they advertised. The supposed “exclusive” gentlemen’s society was nothing but an excuse to drink underage and fuck girls who where from comparably respectable families, in the hopes that the individuals in question would exchange numbers, date each other, marry, and produce a new generation that could continue the cycle. It was like a rich person’s breeding ground, and needless to say, Percy had no desire to breed with anyone anytime soon, or ever for that matter... That was Julius’ familial obligation as heir. With his new wife Elizabeth he was already half way there...

“Yeah, um…” Percy reached for his climbing chalk and dusted his hands. “How soon do I need to inform you if I’m going or not?”

River snorted, crossing his arms, “Well, now would be great. The party is tomorrow night.”

And it was in that moment that Percy came to the awkward realization that he was at a crossroads:

He could either use the fraternity party as an excuse to not go to the business dinner, or use the business dinner as an excuse to not go to the frat party. Despite the insistence of Professor Anders and his family, Percy knew that they all recognized the importance of fraternity activities, and would respect his absence if he played up the value of said “wet t-shirt party” as a crucial part to maintaining a healthy social standing in Whitestone. Then again, the business dinner was just the type of excuse he could use to shamelessly refuse the party invitation, since the only other language WGS brothers understood besides girls, drugs, and alcohol, was “networking”.

Truth be told, people who didn’t know Percy would probably assume that decisions like these came easy to him, judging from his stellar test scores. But they couldn’t be more wrong. The source of his indecisiveness in this particular case could be perfectly traced back to his social anxiety, which was coincidentally to blame for most of his problems. Therefore, deciding between the party and the bloody dinner was mostly a matter of deciding which form of embarrassment he was willing to endure: Would be suffer around his peers in an unfamiliar setting, or around his superiors in a familiar setting. Frankly, if he weren’t hanging off a wall he’d flip a coin for it, but considering he had no desire sharing the ground with River, he figured he needed to come up with something more creative.

“Hey River.”

“Yeah?”

“Pick a number between one and ten. I’m a bit stuck trying to figure out which path I wanna take.”

Odd number; he’d go to the party. Even number; he’d go to the dinner.

There was a long pause, as if River was genuinely struggling to pick a damn number between one and ten. It dawned on Percy that he probably should have gone with something simpler for the poor pleb.

Alas, he eventually answered. “Two.”

The business dinner it was.

Percy looked to his left and found a foothold to move to, just to prove to River that he had genuinely helped him. As Percy found purchase on the new path, he clicked his tongue and tried to sound genuinely upset. “You know River, I just realized; I have this dinner thing Saturday night. Some business bullshit apparently. Really important; and my family insists I be there.” He glanced down at River and pouted slightly. “It’s shitty, I know.”

“No man, I understand,” River said, sounding genuinely fooled. “Family and business before pleasure. Always.” He picked up his gym bag and slung it over his shoulder. “But remember; you need to come to at least three events a year to retain your membership.”

“I know.”

“I’m counting on you man.” He pointed at him with a meaty finger. “You know it’s important to me. I’ve got an image to keep up.”

Percy gave him the most sincere smile he could muster. “And I’ll be sure to not sully that spotless reputation of yours. Don’t you worry.”

“I won’t. See you around de Rollo,” he said, giving him nod before walking away. “Have a nice weekend.”

“You too,” Percy said, glancing up at the top of the wall and letting out a long drawn out sigh before muttering to himself, “Don’t get drunk and drown in the fucking pool…”

***

“I passed the final with a 68% and I still fucking failed the class,” one girl said to the other as they both stormed across campus in their high heels and abysmally tiny skirts.

Frankly, Percy would have failed her too. He didn’t understand why students were so determined to suck at college. It was literally the only thing that mattered unless they planned on going to grad school, which he severely doubted was the case for these ladies. It wasn’t even that difficult to get good grades especially at WU where professors were too afraid to fail the children of the hands who fed them: you went to class, did the readings, done. There were twenty four hours in a day; a hundred and sixty eight in a week. How students managed to not find the time to do those two simple tasks was beyond him. Then again, judging from the girls’ weather-inappropriate attire, he suspected a party was in their immediate future, which was a major time-sink when you accounted for hangover recovery, social media involvement, and prep time, an activity that was 150% more time consuming if you were female; having three sisters and a mother was an ample sample size to prove his hypothesis on the matter. Nobody could convince him otherwise.

As he walked past the girls, he tried his very best to avoid staring back at their derrieres, lest some paparazzi notice the prince of Whitestone gawking. It happened to Julius once and it was in no way a pleasant experience. It took him weeks of volunteering to get that picture out of the public eye, and even then Percy still saw the picture circulating in the form of memes every once in a while.

Percy grimaced at the thought all the way to his car, and then all the way to his studio apartment, where he stood glancing around trying to make a mental note of what he actually needed. He had his desktop at home, so he definitely didn’t need to bring his laptop. If he remembered correctly, (which he always did) his favorite suit was also at home. So really, all he needed were his books. He had ample amounts of extra clothes, toiletries, and even a toothbrush at home waiting for him because Past-Percy knew Future-Percy hated packing.

With little else to do, he set the alarm in his apartment, locked the door, texted his family he was one his way, and headed to his car where he set his playlist to “Heading Home”, which was a collection of war themed power-metal pieces that helped him prepare for the inevitable family drama that awaited...

***

Despite all the contempt Percy felt toward his fellow man, it in no way clouded his appreciation of Whitestone. The jagged snowy peaks, rolling treelines, and majestic fjords that defined the landscape of his birthplace would forever be his pride and joy as a de Rolo. It was a landscape that had housed and shaped dozens of generation before him, and would in turn shape each generation after him. No amount of hate and vitriol he harbored toward the fools who shared his home soil could take his patriotism away from him.

Even in times when things felt so utterly dull and pointless, he knew he was never going to leave. So many of his classmates had great plans to pack up for the far more mainstream city-states of Emon, Westruun, or as far as Ank’Harel or Draconia to start up companies and collect their dragon horde’s worth of new money. But Percy had no interest in such material escapades. As ridiculous as the notion sounded, he felt that destiny and obligation bound him to Whitestone as sort of a birthright, and in a odd but comforting melancholy, he knew in his heart that he would probably die in Whitestone.

This wasn’t to say that he would never travel. He’d set his eye on a few destinations, namely Emon’s Couldtop Center, or the Syngorian Feywild Tech Festival to get some inspiration for his more adventurous projects, and he in turn expected other tech enthusiasts to do the same once he made Whitestone the next tech-innovation hub.

It was partially why he wasn’t entirely opposed to having this little business dinner. If Professor Anders was correct, the people he’d meet at the dinner would open a whole new world for him. It was just a matter of surviving the weekend.

Of course, Percy was getting far too ahead of himself. First and foremost, he needed to actually get home safely, which was what he was currently working on. The regular way home was not a hard drive, but Percy hadn’t taken that way in a very long time. He was much fonder of taking the back-roads, as the view was far superior and the number of plebeian commuters, far fewer... Besides, he enjoyed experiencing a few g’s, taking the curves a little faster than was probably legal. Not that he cared. The Whitestone police knew better than to give him any trouble. His father was good friends with Whitestones Chief of Police Kerrion Stonefell, who knew to look the other way when he saw something he wasn't supposed to. Not that the de Rolo’s ever did anything too incriminating. They did after all, have an image to uphold.

As he continued down the lonely winding road, he knew he was almost home when he spotted the imposing twenty story building that housed Whitestone Pharmaceuticals. It was a modern but elegantly designed steel and glass structure where his family did the majority of their research and business. It stood on its hill like a beacon; a symbol of capitalism done right, reminding Whitestone’s people that the de Rolos, even if no longer their official form of government, had their backs when it came to their healthcare, providing high quality and affordable medication. It was in that very building that Percy spent many a nights developing refining the Alabaster Portal System, one of the most advanced cyber security systems in all of Exandria, or so he hoped. It was something he had created with his own hands that he could be proud of, and he knew that with enough time, it would one day become the golden standard of security.

In fact, the de Rolo’s had a pretty solid tradition of creating standards. Long before Whitestone Pharmaceuticals, the de Rolo’s were once great architects in the middle ages, and had independently designed and constructed the next landmark that signaled that he was five minutes away from home: Whitestone Castle. Once the home of his ancestors, it was now no more than an elegant pile of white stone bricks open to the public so that tourists could appreciate their history and heritage.

For more than a hundred years, Percy’s family had long set up their nest in a far more humble, three story abode a few hills away. Complete with white marble columns and a rustic eight acre backyard where he and his brother could go shooting, the house stood at the top of a picturesque cliff that faced the entire city, where both the castle and Whitestone Pharmaceuticals could be seen even on a cloudy day. From its high vantage point, Percy imagined that at least one of his family members had noticed his ascent up the hill, and were likely now gearing up to either greet him or scold him for being fashionably late.

As he made his way to the top, the sun had already begun setting over the mountains, and by the time he parked and locked his BMW in their three car garage, the last speck of vermilion vanished over the jagged skyline.

Heading toward the front door, his brow furrowed at the sight of an unfamiliar, black SUV. He knew what his siblings’ cars looked like, and it was far too expensive looking to belong to the help. Twirling his keys once, he reached to unlock the door but found it already cracked open, and his nostrils flared a bit. Slowly opening the door, he peeked his head inside, half expecting some form of greeting, only to find the entry hall both dark and eerily empty.

“Hello?” Percy called out, his voice echoing in the marble chamber.

No reply.

Perhaps his family had left for some sort of outing. But surely they would have informed him. He checked his phone and saw no new messages giving him any such update, which caused him to grow just a touch more uneasy.

“Mother? Father?” He shouted a little louder, stepping inside. “I’m home.”

Still no answer.

Percy cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses before carefully closing the door behind him, which caused the room to become veiled in almost complete darkness. He shrugged, staring down at his phone and typing up a quick message to his mother.

_Percy: Home. Where is everybody? Door was open._

Sending the message, he pocketed his phone and nodded to himself, imagining that an explanation would come shortly. However, just as his fingers went reach for the closest light switch, his eyes widened at the horrific sight of the slowly rising silhouette of a gun, which prompted him to spin around and scream right as a foam dart struck him square in the forehead, followed by a barrage of about half a dozen more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Lol...Did I getcha? Please tell me I did.
> 
> But anyway, hope you’re all enjoying rich teenage asshole Percy as much as I am. Here is a little taste of the music he listens to (“One Last Chance”, by Highland Glory): [YouTube Link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKRb-JjHwO0)  
> The irony of the lyrics in this song are palpable. I don’t think Percy realizes it yet.


	3. Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time, on “Edge of Chaos”: 
> 
> Percy goes rock climbing to clear his mind before heading home. While at the gym, he has a conversation with River, his fraternity president, who wants to know whether Percy will be attending a frat party on Saturday night; the same night as the business dinner. Torn between suffering through a frat party or a dinner party, he uses River as a means of choosing by having him pick a number between 1 and 10. River chooses 2 (an even number), thus helping Percy decide that he will go to the business dinner. That evening, upon entering his household, Percy is attacked with foam darts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings this chapter.  
> \---  
> I’m so sorry it has taken me this long to update this fic. For those of you who may not follow me on Tumblr or Twitter, I have been dealing with a lot of drama associated with grad school and the Camp Fire in California. Although I am safe, I had to evacuate my college town due to the toxic air conditions, and out of fear that the fire would reach us. My apartment is safe, but many of my friends and colleagues lost their homes...others even more.
> 
> But anyway, I’m here now, happy to present you all with a chapter I hope you’ll enjoy.

Percy shouted to the Nine Hells as the barrage of foam darts went flying toward his face. The first suction cup to the forehead jostled his psyche, but it was the second, and third, and fourth to the chin, left lens, and right lens respectively that knocked him off his feet. Somebody had a good aim, and judging from the laughter that immediately followed, he already knew it was the twins. Stunned by the barrage, he stumbled backward like the cave troll in the Lord of the Rings, lifting his chin and allowing the snipers a perfect line of sight down Percy’s throat.

And the little bastards probably would have gotten him too, had a heroic hand not pulled Percy out of the way. As a peppering of foam darts dotted the surface of the marble where he had once stood, Percy found himself utterly flustered and red as a baboon's ass to discover that his savior was none other than...  
  
“Percival! Get a hold of yourself brother. We’re at war!”  
  
Of course it was Julius. It was _always_ bloody Julius...  
  
Percy shook his head, ridding himself of the chin accessory. With pale, shaky hands, he pulled the other two suction cups off of his lenses and glared at his eldest sibling wide eyed and absolutely livid.

“Traitor!”

“Me?” Julius asked with near credible innocence.

“You’re armed!” Percy shouted as he shook the darts in an accusatory fashion, gesturing at the large toy rifle currently in his brother’s possession.  
  
Julius briefly glanced down at his weapon. “Oh please...” He rolled his eyes as he plucked the darts straight out of Percy’s hands before using them to reload his own gun. “I just saved you from a whole pile of nasty.” He leaned against the column and lowered his mouth into his collar, muttering to himself as he began looking through his pockets. “My dart missed anyway…”  
  
Percy squinted at Julius as he wiped his lenses with his finger, utterly repulsed. “And what in the Nine Hells is this?!” Percy squealed, watching his index finger and thumb stick together before hastily wiping the residue onto his jeans.

But of course, Julius was already distracted doing something else with his hands, suspiciously lowered and out of his view. To this day, Percy still didn’t know whether his brother’s inability to listen to him for longer than five consecutive seconds was Julius’ own fault -- for having a skull partially occupied by air, or Percy’s fault -- for having a voice frequency that just happened to be one that Julius was incapable of absorbing...  
  
“Julius!” Percy shouted, clapping once.  
  
Startled, Julius immediately lifted his head from his handiwork, inadvertently dropping the object of interest _._

Julius bit down his lower lip as he watched the glue stick slowly roll across the marble floor, before quietly resting against Percy’s boot.

Percy blinked, and Julius blinked back, and for what felt like maybe three seconds, an awkward silence resonated between them. That is... before Percy finally broke said silence with one very simple, though very sour word.  
  
“ _Gun_ .”  
  
Julius’ eyes went wide. “Um…”

“Julius, the fucking gun,” Percy snapped as he walked right up to him, grasping for the weapon.  
  
But Julius was too fast. He lifted the gun right over Percy’s head and laughed, fending him off with his free hand.  
  
“Julius, I swear to the lords above and below...” Percy muttered as he wove and ducked, kicked and scratched, but to no avail. Julius had always been the tallest sibling, and would most likely hold that title for the rest of his life, unless any of his other siblings miraculously managed to top six feet and seven inches...and a half. That, or Percy could _maybe_ count on gravity doing the work in their twilight years, in the hopes that Julius’ spine would eventually succumb to the same level of compression that brought down the giant that had been their great uncle to a “ _lowly_ ” six feet on his deathbed.  
  
Julius’ level of amusement did not waiver as he watched his younger brother scramble and hop like a starved whippet. “You sad little thing...”  
  
“Julius!” Percy screamed as he clawed at Julius’ jacket, and his tie, and his perfectly gelled hair. “The motherfucking gun.”  
  
Yet Julius continued to fend off the scrawny thing that was his younger brother, swatting at him like less of a threat and more of a nuisance. “Oh Percy Percy Percy...” He said with a shake of his head and a bit of a cringe, though his smile was still bright. “Why are you like this?”  
  
Percy grabbed a hold of Julius’ shoulders and nearly lifted himself off the ground, their noses practically touching as Percy whispered the quickest, angriest little whisper he could muster. “This household is in unacceptable conditions,” he hissed. “ _Unacceptable_.”

“Oh please Lemongrab…” Julius sighed, pushing Percy off of him with his free hand, the gun still completely out of reach.  
  
Percy stumbled back a few feet and rested his hands on his knees as he looked up, refusing to break eye contact with the object that he only really wanted because Julius _didn’t_ want him to have it. If only he were three inches taller; three damn inches is all he really needed to reach the gun if he stood on his toes -- two if he stood like their little sister Cassandra during her ballet rehearsals. As a matter of fact, he’d gladly give up three inches from literally anywhere else on his body if it meant he could reach that god forsaken dart gun.

Julius snorted, eyebrows raised as he scanned his little brother. “Is that really all you’ve got?”  
  
Percy eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, walking as far forward as Julius’ outstretched hand would allow him. “The... _gun_ .”  
  
Julius was so bored by this point he was nearly leaning against the column, showing off his big dumb perfect smile as he spoke. “You do realize you’re going into the military in a year, yes?” Julius said, snorting. “You’ll be stuck behind a desk if you keep up this miserable act.”

With a speed only acquired by years of running away from boogers on fingers, Percy gritted his teeth before sinking the heel of his boot deep into what he calculated to be Julius’ big toe.

Julius bent over as he let out quite the tenor of a scream as Percy seized the opportunity to pry the gun straight out of his hands. With newfound confidence, he took a few steps back and pumped the gun, before staring down at the future Lord of Whitestone. “You speak as though having a desk job would be a bad thing...”

He didn’t really care for any clever rebuttals Julius’ was likely to blurt out once he’d recovered, so Percy deemed his time far better spent teaching the rest of his sibling a little lesson on respect...

Stepping out from the protection of the column, he stood with a wide stance as he looked up at the mezzanine with narrowed eyes, where both Oliver and Whitney had taken their perch. Upon seeing their brother now armed and ready to fire, the twins looked at each other and screamed profanities as they scrambled to their feet and began running toward the stairs that lead to the second floor.

“Oh no you don’t,” Percy muttered with a grin as he took aim, waiting for the perfect moment to remind his siblings that they weren’t the only good shots in the family.  
  
Steeling himself, he waited for his window of opportunity, right after the twins had left the safety of the ornate railing to run up the stairs, but just before they disappeared from his view. As they exposed their backs to him, he fired two shots in quick succession, shooting both his siblings in the rear and causing them to cry out in defeat: music to Percy’s ears. He laughed out hysterically as he shook the rifle above his head, basking in the victory just long enough to give Julius the time to rain on his parade.

“Well done Percival,” Julius said, clapping slowly. “Look at you, slaying teenagers left and right.”

“They’re sixteen,” Percy said with an eye roll, clicking his tongue as he rested the rifle on his shoulder. “Old enough to marry. Old enough to get shot.”  
  
“So you don’t think it’s unfair?” Julius asked, rubbing his stubbled chin.

Percy simply snorted, turning to look at him, “Why would it be? I was outnumbered.”  
  
It would have been entirely in character for Julius to come up with some other snarky remark. However, it was slightly less in character for him to raise his hand in perfect silence, as if he were a good little student with a question for the professor.

Percy shifted his weight as he stared at Julius in confusion. “Yes?”

Of course, Julius had no questions. Though Percy only came to that realization well after Julius had already dropped his hand in a swift sweeping motion, signaling the fourth traitor to take his shot from behind the bust of their great grandfather de Rolo.  
  
Percy had just the time to hiss out the beginning of the word “ _shit_ ” before getting shot square in the temple.

“Ha!” Julius laughed, clapping once. “Brilliant Ludwig!”  
  
“Did you see his face?” Ludwig howled as he leaned out from behind the statue.

Once again, Percy was no longer having fun. Gods forbid he have any sort of fun.

He closed his eyes and sighed as he plucked the dart off his temple, “Why do I even try?”

As Ludwig strut past the two of them, Julius quickly ruffled Ludwig’s tousled brown hair before answering Percy’s rhetorical question. “Because you’re a sad little try-hard who is still coming to terms with the fact that your littlest brother has already stolen your title as the best shot of the house.”

“Right...that must be it,” Percy said as he tossed the dart gun on a nearby end table, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders and making his way toward the hallway on the first floor. He would no longer humor his brothers. They were both trolls at heart. Percy dealt with assholes like them all the time online, though sometimes, when heated, he would forget the strategies on how to deal with them.

Ludwig was the second to youngest of the seven children, but at fourteen, he was already starting to look more like Julius than Percy ever did. It was evident he had won the genetic lottery. Not that Percy was jealous in any way...Good looks were never something to be jealous of. It was intellect of geniuses that Percy truly coveted, and judging from Ludwig’s grades, he was likely destined to follow the same path as Julius, doused in social fame. Hells, at fourteen the little brat already had about half as many followers as Julius, which was -- in hindsight -- actually a little worrisome considering Julius was practically the public face of the de Rolo household. The fact that Ludwig looked like a Disney celebrity probably helped him draw in the single tweens and teens, a role he’d inherited now that Julius was off the market. Sure, one would imagine Oliver to be the better candidate at sixteen, but he simply didn't have that charismatic de Rolo flair. He was far more roguish in his demeanor, still stuck in his rebellious stage and following after his twin as if she were the only one who really got him.  
  
Not that he cared about any of that. All he truly cared about was fulfilling his familial obligation so he could go to his bedroom on the third floor and hibernate until the dinner.  
  
As Percy made his way toward hallway, there was a brief pause before Julius’ inevitable reaction; though given his new, more concerned tone, Percy figured his guilting strategy was already working.

“Oh, come on now...” Julius said as he lightly jogged after him. “We’ve barely had a chance to talk. You’ve only just returned home.”

“If you wanted to talk to me you wouldn’t be assaulting me on our very doorstep. I feel like I get fucked wherever I go these days.”

Julius eventually caught up to his brother in the hallway, weaseling past him and blocking the door with his large frame just before Percy could head into the grand dining hall. “Well perhaps if you weren’t so easy to vex you wouldn’t be fucked so often.”

Percy blinked at Julius for a moment, feeling more shook by the sentence than felt usual...as if the very floor had shifted beneath his feet. In fact, it almost felt like he was getting a bit of a headache. Grated his brother’s word choice was absolutely dreadful. The sentence was just begging for someone to scream something lewd from across the-

“ _Percy couldn’t fuck often even if he wanted to!_ ”

Ah. There it was.

It was Whitney. And from the sounds of it, her voice was most likely resonating from the second floor balcony that overlooked the dining room. Whitney always knew how to get a rise out of people, weaponizing her vulgarity as a means of getting the attention she not-so-secretly craved, since her sisters had already found their placed in the family hierarchy. With Vesper wowing the masses by finishing college a year early, and Cassandra basking in the revelry that was tween Instagram fame, Whitney had no choice but to find something else to help stand out, even if it meant dragging herself and her brother down a path of quasi delinquency. If Percy could bet on any of them going to jail, it would most certainly be Oliver or Whitney; or both -- if they ended teaming up to commit a crime. Still, even under all her piercings and ripped clothing, she was a complex soul. Her tough outer shell was nothing more than just that: A shell. She hungered for affection like any other sixteen year-old, but sadly hated most of her parentally approved options, and would rather die than end up with some stuck up prick. In a way, Percy didn’t really blame her. He only wished she would invest her angst into something more productive, like poetry, or music, or _Dungeons and Dragons_ …  
  
Though Percy had no time to muse over the tragedy that was middlechildom. He had to figure out how to shake Julius out of his hair so he could continue forth. The sooner he could take care of family matters, the sooner he could grab an aspirin to rid himself of the sudden and unwelcome headache.

“Julius, could you pleas-”

Julius’ eyes suddenly went wide as he stared Percy down, looking uncharacteristically concerned.

“What?” Percy raised a brow, “It’s Whitney. What did you expect?”

“No um,” Julius muttered, scrambling for a handkerchief from his jacket and gesturing beneath his own nose. “You’re…”  
  
Percy snatched the handkerchief and glared at Julius suspiciously, wiping his nose to find not snot, but blood. His expression quickly morphed to one of concern that matched his brother’s, if only temporarily. Perhaps he had burst a vessel while they were fighting...

“You don’t usually get nosebleeds,” Julius noted.

Percy wiped his nose once more before shoving the handkerchief into his pocket and crossing his arms. “Could you _please_ get out of my way?”

“Where you off to in such a hurry?”

“Oh, you know...” Percy trailed off as he feigned an attempt to dip under one of Julius’ arms, only to quickly change course and weave under the other.  
  
“I really don’t,” Julius said, pivoting around and jogging after Percy, who was already making great strides past the twenty-seat darkwood dining table.

“I do not understand why you are so insufferable today Julius.”

“Funny, I was just thinking the same about you,” Julius scoffed as he grabbed for Percy’s wrist, only to lose his grip as his brother yanked his hand away.

With indignation seeping out of every orifice, Percy dug his heels into the ground and spun around, looking up at his brother with narrowed eyes. “You’d think that a man like you would be above all this childish nonsense.”

“Right,” Julius said, crossing his arms. “Because you’re so terribly mature?”

Percy briefly glanced up at the indoor balcony, where he spotted Oliver and Whitney leaning against the railing, their chins resting on their hands as they enjoyed the show like a couple of cats staring at birds out a window.

With click of his tongue and a deliberately loud sigh, Percy ignored Julius’ question and continued onward, striding through the next hallway and scanning every room as he rushed past them.

“I mean,” Julius continued with a bit of a chuckle as he jogged beside Percy, trying to hide the fact that he was working up a bit of a sweat. “Just last year you constructed that slide down the north wing’s stairs. Ludwig broke a pinkie thanks to your shoddy handiwork.”  
  
“This isn’t about me Julius.” Percy said as he dipped into the library, where he spotted Vesper typing away on her laptop. She was probably working on that book mother and father bragged so much about.

As if sensing his presence, she glanced up briefly before immediately looking down at her screen once more. “Hello Percival... Welcome back.”

Unenthusiastic, as usual. Truly their father’s daughter.

Percy replied with a quick “ _hey_ ” before moving on, continuing his train of thought only when he was certain he was out of earshot this time...

“As I was saying, this isn’t about _me_ . It’s about _you_ not acting your age. You’re twenty bloody three. You’re the heir, you have a wife, a successful company to lord over once mother and father retire to the Menagerie Coast or wherever in the Nine Hells they plan on running off too.”  
  
Julius smirked at the opportunity for another joke. “Baator? Nah...far too crowded.”

“Honestly Julius, at this point in my life nothing our parents do surprises me anymore.” Percy peeked into the music room, before huffing in exasperation and moving on to the next room. “I mean, since when have they ever required the children to attend these ridiculous things?”  
  
Julius sighed. “Actually, if memory serves me right, it was the Briarwoods who requested we all be there. And we’re not-”  
  
“Oh, fucking fantastic,” Percy huffed as he rolled his eyes, standing in the middle of the hallway and resting his hands on his hips as he glanced around. “That type of guest…”  
  
“Percival…” Julius gasped, stopping in front of his little brother once again, visibly winded. “What in the Hells are you looking for?”

“Mother.”

“Why so?”

“Because I just returned home for the first time in months and you and I both know how she is.”

“Fair…” Julius said, crossing his arms.

But Percy did not stay to talk. There were so many more rooms to look through and the last thing he wanted to do was shout for the help. His throat had suffered enough shouting for the day.

Julius followed close behind Percy as he resumed his previously interrupted train of thought. “And we’re not children Percival. May I remind you that our _baby_ sister is thirteen this summer.”  
  
“Precisely my point. You’re twenty-fucking three Julius; easy job, beautiful wife-”

“A shiny new car…” Julius continued, grinning at Percy.

Percy froze once more, stopping in his tracks and glancing back at Julius in utter horror.  
  
“The black SUV?”  
  
Julius simply nodded with a smirk.  
  
“That’s your bloody car?” Percy squeaked.

“It’s mine and Elizabeth's, yes.”  
  
“Since when have you ever wanted to own anything that wasn’t a sports car?”  
  
A devilish smile spread across Julius’ face, and he crossed his arms once more. “That, my dear brother, is something we can discuss at the _range_ .”  
  
Percy’s hard expression weakened at the strategic mention of the sacred location.

It had been so very long since he had gone shooting with Julius. It was a pastime they reserved for serious talks, and conversations about matters that were not for family ears. They had discussed many topics over the years on that fabled ground, from sex, to politics, to family gossip. It was the only time Percy ever really tolerated Julius, because there, and only there -- behind the house, where the grass grew tall and the trees grew old, was the place where Julius was completely sincere. Percy didn’t know what magic resided on de De Rolo Family Shooting Range. Though it was certainly something powerful enough to free Julius of his otherwise rock-solid facade.  
  
“Julius, I…” Percy let out a deep, drawn out sigh. He desperately wanted to tell his brother “ _no”_ so he could prove to him once and for all that he was an independent adult with his own interests, aspirations, and opinions; show him that he didn’t need Julius.

And yet, he knew he still looked up to him -- though he’d never admit it. Besides, it was so dreadfully rare for Julius to offer up his free time, that he simply could not pass up this opportunity, even if it meant giving in to Julius’ manipulations.

“C’mon…”  Julius whispered with a grin, likely sensing Percy’s trepidation. “Tomorrow. At dawn, like real men.”

Needless to say, Percy could not let this rare opportunity slip from his grasp. It would be months before summer break, and Percy refused to wait that long to hear what his brother had to say simply to spite him, although a little negotiating on the time of the meeting was in order…  
  
“Dawn seems so dramatic. Can we maybe do...ten o’clock?”

“It has to be before breakfast because I have a meeting at nine.”

Percy sighed. He hated being tired when he knew he had to socialize the same day, but once again, the desire to listen to what Julius had to say was far too tantalizing to let his nocturnal habits get the best of him.

With a stretch of his neck, he casually glanced up at the coffered wood ceiling. “I can do seven, I suppose.”  
  
Julius leaned in, staring Percy down with a big smile before lightly slapping him on the cheek. “Seven it is.”

Percy tried his best to swat him away, but Julius was already many steps ahead of him, making his way down the hallway with a bit of a spring in his step.

“By the way,” Julius shouted as he gained more distance. “I’d try the sun room. Mother has been planning the dinner in there all afternoon.”

With that, Julius jogged up the curved stairs that lead to the game room above, leaving Percy alone in the now silent hallway. Although he had experienced what he considered to be a defeat, he couldn’t help but feel as though something else was troubling him... a dull sensation in his chest he could not place no matter how much he tried to understand it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Content Warnings this chapter.  
> \---  
> Thank you all for voting on Twitter, showing me that you wanted me to write more of this fic. I had a lot of fun characterizing the siblings. I never imagined them to have this much character so early on. Sure would be a pity if something were to happen to them…  
> …  
> And for those of you who are not familiar with “Lemongrab”, allow me to enlighten you all: [ YouTube Link ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oqa9tKarkNA)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading so far. Keep and mind that I generally give the other larger fic priority, so chapters for this fic will be posted less frequently than the other.
> 
> You can follow me on social media for updates and a lot of extra and related content like fan art, essays, and D&D homebrew:
> 
>  **Twitter**[@Scarecrowlover](https://twitter.com/Scarecrowlover)  
>  **deviantART** [scarecrowlover.deviantart.com](http://scarecrowlover.deviantart.com/)  
>  **Tumblr** [The Scarecrowlover on Tumblr](https://the-scarecrowlover.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Youtube** [ The Scarecrowlover on YouTube. ](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCeuCwU4u2th774sAcW2EyzA/playlists) This is where I keep the character playlists.
> 
> Feel free to contact me in all places if you ever wanna chat, have any questions, or requests.


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